Realities
by ZombiesLoveTopHats
Summary: With Maxwell once again able to access reality through his doorway he begins to make deals with the lost and weary, bringing them into his nightmare realm. Why settle for one pawn when you could have a set? It's even better when they play thier own game. Canon characters- no OC's
1. Knowledge

**Realities**

_~Prologue~_

_"Throw the switch"_

_If he had been thinking clearly the scientist would have picked up on the friendly request as more of what it was, a poorly concealed but cheerfully spoken demand._

_So when he drew his hand back it wasn't a fully conscious decision but a reaction to events. Now he looked at what he'd constructed the more he pondered exactly what it was. There was no building something as complex without forethought of its use._

_He could see the schematics in his mind, every detail and process as if he was admiring them on paper. Everything else was white noise. His once sharp, logical mind dulled by a fog. A sensation comparable to walking into a room only to forget why, and to only stand there knowing the reasoning was there at one point and would return in due time._

_"Pull it"_

_That sudden shout, a bark, a command that stopped his rebelling thoughts._

_The lever was pulled with noted ease and the machine unfolded masterfully, gears whirring. It's form a long, crude face. The abrupt change of height splintering the roof above, a flash of lighting illuminating it's Cheshire grin._

_A reenactment of frankenstein._

_Suddenly there were impossible shadows drawing in from the rooms corners, ribbons of darkness rising from their 2D plain, coiling together, twisting into spindly hands. Hands that were suddenly everywhere, raking the ground looking for purchase. Hands that clutched with incredible strength; hands that held their prey high before quickly dragging it down. Past the machine, the floorboards, the cabin. A dark laugh echoed as the scientist disappeared into the darkness._

**Chapter 1**- _Knowledge_

Birds. Loud, obnoxious, useless creatures that seemed their happiest on both sides of unsociable hours. Perched on window sills, singing their unwanted, little cheery tune at pitches depending on the listeners condition.

It was times like these that Wilson hated the feathery nuisances.

A light frown blossomed on the scientists face. Laying on his back somewhere on the thin line between consciousness and peaceful slumber, Wilson sighed. His head felt it was splitting down the centre and, for reasons unknown, his stomach was churning as if he'd spent half hour spinning in place.

As strong the desire to throw something substantial to disturb the chorus of tweets pecking his brain he remained stiffly still. If he wasn't as focused on the sounds of nature not aiding his headache, and the immediate threat of spilling his lunch, he'd have registered more how his limbs felt heavy, encumbered, far away and unwilling to move.

Not that he really wanted to anyway.

Besides the chirping everything was calm, settled and the warmth of the sun on his face had never felt so cosy. Perhaps, he could sleep away the ails

There was abrupt collection of squawks, a flurry of flaps and silence.

"Say pal, you don't look so good"

Wilson had never moved as fast in his life. Within a heartbeat he'd regained movement of his limbs and had ungracefully shuffled four steps backwards on his elbows. Unfortunately, almost immediately his vision swam and the world tilted, an array of green, blue and a silhouette flitted past as he fell onto his back. It took a few extra seconds for him to realise he was staring at the sky, and another beat to register he was outside.

"Rough journey?" The voice mocked, making itself known. Wilson could practically hear the grin over the words.

A heartbeat in his ears, the scientist was thankful he hadn't eaten recently and his stomach could only complain in grumbles as it twisted. With a stifled groan, he gingerly rose from the grass on shaky legs, face set to confront the man, faltering slightly at the sight.

Noted to be a tall man himself, the stranger stood a good foot higher, dressed to the tens in a sharp, well tailored pinstripe suit. The shoulders and lapels were curled and as sharp as the mans features, and the cigar held in his right hand was never too far from his lips.

If anything the man was ominous but there was also something unmistakably familiar about him.

A million things was going though the scientists mind

"Where am I? Who are you?" A sudden wave of dissyness had him grasping his head and he struggled to keep the strangers gaze "What is going on here?"

In truth he was having a hard time making sense of it all.

Had he been drugged? It would explain the nausea and headache. No, as time ticked on his mind became clearer and more memories flooded back. He remembered the radio, a voice, a machine, impossible shadows.

The taller man gave a soft, belittling chuckle, pulling Wilson from his frantic thoughts. Once he had the scientists attention he flicked his cigar to the forest floor and snuffed it out with his dress shoe.

"Your lucky to have found me in a good mood, Mr Higgsbury." The stranger held up a hand to silence the man no doubt about to question the knowledge of his surname.

"First off, my name is Maxwell. And I'm sure you'll be more that glad to know that the vertigo your feeling will pass soon. Being pulled through realities can be tasking" Maxwell tugged his coat and straightened his tie in a businessly manner. Placing an arm behind his back he continued before his perplexed friend could question further.

"As for this 'place" he gracefully gestured around with his hand, taking a step forward which Wilson mirrored backwards "Well your just have to find that out for yourself. I wouldn't want to spoil the fun"

Wilson frowned, brows furrowing. An overwhelming wave of familiarity washing over as he finally realised the voice of the radio was the one standing before him. Maxwells face the one featured on that dreadful machine that brought him here.

There was no logic in the scenario.

"What are you?" Wilson's scowl was as dark as his hair.

A small laugh. The norm for this man seemed to be sarcastic chuckles.

"Oh I am many things, but as of now, think of me as a concerned bystander" Maxwell grinned, another cigar somehow in his grasp. It left a thin trail of smoke as he moved. "I'd get going if I was you, find some food and have a fire going before nightfall. Believe me when I say you don't want to be stuck in the dark" He gave a farewell bow "You strike me as a somewhat intelligent man, pal. So I sincerely hope my advice hasn't fallen on deaf ears."

In a puff of smoke maxwell was gone, dropping into the ground like a hole had appeared at his feet. It left no trace.

Wilson was taken aback but chose to ignore the stranger's method of departure in fear for his still fragile mind, he instead eyed his surroundings and grimaced. From where he was standing, in a simple patch of green, there where trees, more trees, flowers and not much else. He slowly circled and found it was the same on all sides, wooden giants and variety of plants.

Great

If anything his headache and sickness had more or less subsided, thankfully. It didn't go unnoticed that it was just as maxwell promised, but It did beg the question how much of the mans advice should be heeded.

Wilson didn't trust the man. If everything he remembered was true then it was Maxwells guidance that led him into this situation, and he surely wouldn't have reason to advise him back out again.

All the same having a backup plan couldn't hurt, and being trapped in some random forest didn't seem even the little bit appealing. It didn't help he'd never been camping, but he supposed, hoped, wished even that it couldn't be far from fieldwork.

Suppose he'd have to listen to the advice to an extent, misguided or not.

Even with his lack of experience Wilson could tell there was something off with the world. He couldn't place it enough to phrase but something certainly wasn't right, and standing around idly wasn't going to solve anything.

That comment about 'not wanting to be stuck in the dark' didn't entirely sit well with him either, Maxwells face didn't change but his tone certainly had.

So with set determination for answers Wilson picked a direction and ventured forward.

* * *

><p><strong>Wow, I haven't written for years, and it certainly shows, but this fantastic game has made me want to contribute to the fandom! Hope it's somewhat interesting so far even though nothing much has happened.<strong>

**I'm not entirely sure how many of the characters I will be using, and the for certain ones so far are Wilson (obviously) Wendy and Willow, but I'm open to suggestions.**

**Pairings are up in the air at the moment as I'm not sure on people's preference to Wilson x Willow. Although, what I have in mind for this story would work with or without the pairing so I'm currently on the fence.**

**Next up is Wendy's arrival.**

**(Edit- changed the story's name and hopefully amended the mentioned grammar mistakes. If you spot any please don't hesitate to mention. I'm nowhere near fantastic but I do try to be coherent)**

**Criticism is always appreciated.**


	2. The Bereaved

**Chapter 2**

_The bereaved_

It was raining again.

Fat droplets fell from heavy grey clouds and onto the lowering casket, bouncing with impact. Unbiased, the rain hit the pack of black umbrellas gathered around the slowly lowering box in a steady beat, almost drowning the soft cries and mutters of the few people taking cover beneath.

The service concluded quickly and the umbrellas disbanded, the mourners never seeing the young girl, a little over ten, crouched from the rain under one of the perimeter walls jutting cobbles. Her wavy long blonde hair plastered to her face and plaid skirt muddy.

Equally, she paid them no mind. Instead, her attention stayed with the small flower cupped in her shivering hands. Once comparable to her own, a dark pink, that was now browning and twisting with decay. She tenderly picked at a few of the many withering petals, straightening them to former glory. Ever so careful not to break them as she waited for the last few stragglers to pass.

"Terrible weather" one remarked as they walked on.

The girl, Wendy, thought the weather fit the cemeteries mood well, although she didn't comment.

Standing, she brushed her skirt. It didn't make a difference. Cupping the flower to her chest from the downpour she passed through the entrance- a large iron gate -and carried onward up the central, cobble paved path. The rain didn't hasten her.

Ignoring the other path branches, Wendy took a left once large marble headstones, stood a little over her height -the remains of the rich- began herding her forward. She past a polished angel statue, it's dead gaze on the sky and a stone book open in its outstretched arms. She passed another, greened with age, draped across a chipping grave marker, its head resting on crossed arms.

In some ways she found herself relating to the silent stone guardians. She ducked her head but never addressed them. The statues grew more decayed to scarce the further Wendy walked.

Finally the tight cobble paving gave way to mismatched house bricks as she reached a junction that spanned out similar to tree roots. Without a pause in step she followed the one to the far right and continued down a dirt path kept alive by foot traffic. She wouldn't be surprised if someone mentioned it was her own that maintained it.

She didn't complain or grimace as mud splashed her tights as her feet began sinking, she lifted her knees higher and quickened her pace to stop the saturated dirt stealing her shoes.

It was a short battle.

Nestled under one of many under kept oaks, her sisters gravestone stood at the end of a line of four. A stone mortal among marble gods, and barely holding a torch over the neighbouring blank stone grave markers of the poor.

Beside the grave was a small patch of dirt barren of grass, an indent among the mulching leaves. Evidence of something constantly disturbing the area over time. Wendy sat down in that spot, as always. The old oaks reach partially covering her from the rain.

Not that she noticed.

Wendy was already too cold and drenched to even feel the ground seeping into the seat of her skirt as she sat in silence with her sisters grave. Her fingers were numb and she was developing a sniffle but none of it mattered now she watched over her slumbering sibling.

Everyday since her passing Wendy had come to the graveyard. Come to keep her sister company. She would sit there with a false half smile, lost in her mutterings of stories of the past, or sometimes speak of goings on in town. She'd mention her mother, father, but didn't make it a habit.

Today, however, Wendy didn't feel like saying anything. She just felt cold. Colder than usual, and it was nothing to do with the rain soaking the skin of her bare arms, or the gusts of autumn wind making the sting worse.

It was the numbness of loss, which came when her sister died.

The illness seemed to come with the wind. Abigail had been healthy one minute and bed ridden the next, and what ate at Wendy the most, what kept her up at night, was she wasn't at her sisters side when she passed. She'd even promised she'd stay.

It quickly turned out to be a promise she couldn't keep. Wendy had been adamant to remain at her twins side but her parents had taken her away. They feared of the illness spreading to their second daughter and did everything in their power to keep her away.

It took two weeks for the flu to kill Abigail, and it numbed Wendy when she thought how her sister had suffered alone for the final one.

When her father approached her, face drawn, Wendy already knew what had befallen her sister. She remembered the moment clearly. He didn't say anything. Just kneeled down and wrapped her a hug. When they parted he kept a hand on her shoulder while his other dipped into his chest pocket. What he lifted out he placed in her palm, gently curled her fingers over it, stood and left.

Seeing the flower in her hand brought a tightness in her chest but it was the funeral that brought a grounded reality to it all.

That tightness expanded into a pit, and had since been growing steadily. After a few weeks it slowly traveled to her stomach and anchored itself. A weight she couldn't shift.

Wendy remained in silence, vacantly watching the rain bounce around her sisters grave.

There was no date, cause of death or epigraph on the marker, just the simple chiseled letters of her siblings name. Wendy limply reached out and ghosted her hand over the letters, her other closed tightly around the flower in her palm which crinkled like dried leaves with the pressure. A single tear joined the rain on her face.

"I miss you Abigail"

There was a sudden gust of wind and the smell of smoke in the air, and a voice came from nowhere and everywhere.

"Say pal, fitting weather wouldn't you say?" It said

Wendy gasped. Black pooled from the base of Abigail's grave, darted back and stretched up the oak behind in a neat, thin line. Before she could react further a long, pinstriped clad leg stretched out from the darkness, it's leather dress shoe stepping on her sisters grave. Wendy's eyes followed the limb upward as it's owners body leaned in, movement alike a spider, the black portal behind shrank down until it vanished at the beings feet.

The figure flashed a grin, casually leaning forward to rest a gangly elbow on his raised knee, the other arm delivering the lit cigar held between his gloved fingers to his face. He took a drag, the resulting bloom of orange light highlighting his gaunt but sharp features for a moment. He exhaled the smoke before addressing the girl.

The rain never touched him.

"Your looking glum, pal. Lost someone near and dear?" He said.

Wendy was quick to come to her senses. Her grip on the flower tightened and gaze fell to her sisters grave. Mentally, she cycled her answer. My twin, my other half, my best friend, my sister...

"My sibling" Her reply came in practiced grace. Vague and detouring. Wendy's face gave nothing away, neither her monotone voice. When she met the strangers gaze there was no noticeable sympathy in his eyes. A welcome change.

"I can take you to her" the stranger replied airily.

Wendy blinked a few times and a scowl broke through her vacant facade.

"Please don't take my age for ignorance, sir. I apologise but I'm far from believing in the folly of magic" she spoke softly. The man gave a bark of laughter. His already wide grin stretched further on his face.

"You don't believe me?"

"My sister is dead, there is no bringing her back"

"Dead is a status not a finality"

"Death is the ending of everything, sir. There is no great release, ascension or leaving this world for another. All we have awaiting us is an eternal slumber. Everything dies"

"I like you, kid, straight to the point. Your rather morbid but nonetheless wiser than someone twice your age." The stranger tapped a finger to his chin twice in thought, flicking his thumb over index in a click theatrically, as if an idea had suddenly actually occurred to him.

"What if I proved it too you? Proved that your sister is simply lost, wandering somewhere. Ready to be contacted." The man took another drag of his cigar, the smoke billowing over his teeth. "Would you follow?"

Wendy's eyes flickered away from the man to her flower then the gravestone. The promise she made was practically burning a hole through her chest. Sighing she looked up "I'd travel to the end of the world to be reunited with my sister"

The man grinned and dropping his cigar in a puddle. It quickly sizzled out. "That's good to hear" he spoke slowly "but before we go take a look at that flower you hold so dear"

Skeptically, Wendy looked down and her breath caught. Without her noticing Abigail's flower had taken bloom in her hand. She watched it wide eyed.

The colour started in the middle, as if it was drawing it's life from her palm, and them slowly seeped outwards to the petals, dying them into a rich, deep pink. Within seconds the dahlia shed and re-grew it's decayed limbs and, after a quick shake from Wendy, looked as vibrant as they day she and Abigail had picked it.

Above, the man didn't wait for an answer. Looking over his shoulder he addressed a unseeable entity behind him with a sharp nod. Within a beat two thin lakes of ink shot forward from the shadows of neighbouring gravestones, fraying into hands as they grabbed onto the young girls arms and ankles. Wendy didn't struggle as she disappeared into the ground.

She hadn't realised her eyed had closed till they opened to a clear, mid-morning sky. Her head spun and she quickly noticed her clothes and hair were somehow bone dry. Rising into sitting she hung her head for a second. She'd seen the tall man from the cemetery lingering in her peripheral but chose to ignore him for the foreign feeling haunting her chest.

The stranger didn't approach "Don't get caught out in the dark, kid" he remarked

"The dark doesn't bother me" Wendy replied quickly. The man gave a half hearted laugh.

"You've never had a reason to fear it" he spoke lightly and disappeared into the ground before Wendy could voice her question.

Suddenly alone Wendy glanced around. She was in a lush, green flatland, seemingly bordered by trees in the distance, but for some reason she didn't feel frightened or at all bothered by her sudden change of surroundings. If anything, standing, she felt lighter. Those heavy feelings of loss and guilt had seemingly been lightened by one similar to nostalgia.

There was a whisper, like a breeze rustling though a tree. Wendy couldn't hear it's words but she knew who it was. She stood still and waited, and it came again, just as quietly.

With a hunch she lifted the flower to her ear and held her breath, realising it in a gasp as the ethereal voice whispered again. For the first time since her sisters departure, she smiled.

"Abigail is close"

* * *

><p><strong>Next up is either the third arrival or an update of those already in Maxwells world. I'm still not entirely sure how many of the characters I'll be adding but I do know they won't be having a introduction as long as this. Iv also ruled out pairings. I'll keep those for an outside series or whatnot.<strong>

**If you notice any mistakes in my haphazard writing, or have a suggestion or criticism please don't hesitate to say.**

**A BIG thanks to those who have already left a review, your suggestions and support are well appreciated!**

**Thanks for reading!**


End file.
